The Watchman
by jackpot7374
Summary: Hi. This quick little story popped into my head the other day. Grammar may not be fantastic. Trying to think like a little kid, it's not that easy for someone my age. Please read and review for me.


_I hate high watch. I'm stuck here 12 hours a day by those assholes. 6 in the morning 6 at night. Maggie's got the other watch. We're stuck up here cause our aim is the truest, ours eyes the keenest. Our youth a benefit, me being 12 her being 16. The big fat stinky guy, with the sweat stained shirt, covered with blood, he sticks us up here, pushes me on the ladder to the bell tower every fucking time. Him with his missing teeth that sprays spittle every time he says anything with an "s"or a "th". Fucker. I'm going to put the rest of his teeth out with the butt of this sniper fuckin rifle. _

He peeks over the edge of the railing, sees 4 shambling along about 1000 yards away. Sits back down and falls back into his own thoughts. Looks around his feet in the 8x8 square tower floor. 4 WW2 style ammo canisters sit in the corner filled with 7.62 MM ammo for the pristine weapon laying across his lap. Rags, oil, cleaning supplies lay about the deck. He glances down and grabs a clean rag from the can and wipes off the front and back of the scope. Pops out the 20 round magazine verifies a full clip and slams it back into the weapon. His hand slides along the chamber to the tip of the weapon where he tightens down the silencer. He gets back up and looks back out over the railing, the first one is passing the 500 yard markers they have placed around the old stone church. The whole area within 1000 yards has been cleared. Buildings torn down, trees and brush removed. He takes a deep breath peers through the scope and sights in, the wind is dead. He squeezes the trigger slowly, calmly, the quiet cough of the rifle sounds, a bullet plunges right into the bridge of a nose and the back of the head explodes. _Fat fucking stinky rotten bastard_…  
Then he re-adjusts to his left, skin sloughs and hangs loosely from the face of this creature, another squeeze another cough same results. _Crippled hobbling piece of shit_…Slight re-adjustment this one still past the 500 yard marker, squeeze, cough! bullet drop pulls it down. Slams through the mouth and out the neck, he watches as teeth explode, it's body flies backwards a few feet. Eye trained still on the same target, it rolls gets to all fours head pointed right towards him. Squeeze, cough! A smirk comes to his face as the bullet enters through the top of the skull. No exit wound. The body collapses in the muddy ground. _Shit eating bag of puss_…One more target in sight 650 yards. Accuracy drops with this rifle significantly over 600 yards, but he knows this weapon like it is part of him, month's of use, month's of solitude, month's of holding his love in his hands, his saving grace. Adjust aim, bullet drop, squeeze, cough! The naked man in his sights a left knee explodes, spinning him off to the right and down to the ground, he smirks, looks like a mistake, it's not. Body turns, rolls over, gets on his hands and knees or what's left of them. Squeeze, cough! It's right arm shatters and falls apart at the elbow. _Fuck them conserve ammo, I don't know who stinks more…_It wobbles shakily struggling to right itself, it topples over on it's side. He laughs and giggles…_weebles wobble but they don't fall…_Squeeze, cough! As the body sits up a bullet slams into it's forehead. _down…_

He turns sits back down, pulls out the clip, slides over the canister grabs 7 bullets rolls them around in his palm then reloads the clip back to 19. He lays her back down in his lap last rests his head back against the wall of the high perch, grabs a canteen takes a swig…spits it out then takes a long pull on the canteen. 30 minutes left till rotation, Mags will be up here shortly. He pulls his cigarettes from his pocket, puts one in his mouth, lights it with the pack of matches in his left shirt pocket and takes a long heavy drag. Under his initials he carves 4 more marks in the wall. That's 13 today. 567 since he started this 3 month's ago.

_They killed my parents, took me and my sister. Fat, stinky, greedy, heartless bastards. I'll put them down, we'll put them down. Somehow. Heartless, toothless, brainless. Once they got inside the perimeter of our range they took out dad. He was trained but their numbers were too great once they came back the second day. Stepping over their own fallen brothers from the previous attempt where we put 23 of them down. This time they came back prepared and at night. Swarmed us from the blind spots, dads arsenal useless against so many. He fuckin tried, took down as many as he could I still hear him screaming, cursing, struggling with them. Then I heard the gun fire from my perch in the attic as I peered through the crack and saw the blood spray against the wall. Mags sat in the corner crying. Mom was shouting from the other end of the house..Fat, stinky, greedy, heartless bastards…her words. Then the shouting stopped. I heard laughter…the last thing I remember was the man passing by the crack wiping a knife off on his pants, he turned looked up and pushed quickly against the door. Then I woke up here, in a room with my sister. Mags clothes were torn, her face beaten and bruised. She crawled over and held me until they came for her again. I screamed and ran to the door as they took her away that day. Not since. Toothless, brainless reeking of liquor like dads. I didn't fight dad either._

The door creaks. A familiar blond curly coif of hair pokes up through the hole. Then she turns and it's not so familiar anymore. Her face is hard. Her eyes seem empty and soulless. She turns and crawls over, shutting the hatch. She talks to him, tells him about a raiding party going out tomorrow afternoon. They'll be left behind with the women, sitting high in the perch together. Watching. Raiding party left only them and a few others at the church. 10-15 men remained behind to protect the church plus them in the tower. Plus the few women locked up and kept prisoner. He stays quiet, he doesn't speak, she pats him on the shoulder, pulls him to her chest. He closes in and accepts her love before pulling away. He points to the markings under his initials. Grabs his rifle, rags, oil and slings his rifle over his shoulder. She takes his spot at the wall after taking a look around. The sun will set soon she see's assorted shadows wandering through the remaining streets and along the tree line. She settled down and began her routine just like her little brother. He closes the hatch as he climbs down looking down at the jack-o-lantern smiling up at him. _Toothless…_

Upon reaching the bottom, the large fat man claps him on the shoulder and pushes him along, laughing telling tales of women…mostly of his sister…mostly of Mags. He doesn't respond focuses on his feet, not meeting the gaze of this man. _Slimy, dirty, old, crusty man._ He steers him to the kitchen, a doppelganger except with tits greets him shoves a plate of food in his face. _Slop, reeking, stinky slop._ _Heartless…_She mutters something to the man as he rounds the table and lays a disgusting sloppy wet kiss on her, grabs her sagging gross breasts, she laughs arms flops her meaty fat flabby arms over his shoulders and around his neck that looks like a pack of sausage. _Mmmmm sausage…I miss sausage_

The boys slurps from the plate and licks it clean, he looks around the disheveled kitchen. A mess pans in the industrial sink, empty cans of food lay about the floor. He rises from his seat and wanders off from the table while they are distracted. Men move about the makeshift fortress, in the halls, moans and horrible sounds resonate from behind some of the closed doors. Not moans of the dead, moans of those women that wish they were dead. Moans of other fat, disgusting humans that seemed to have inherited the right to the earth. I guess being willing to do the things they have gave them that right. He wanders past the armory, sneaks in grabs 6 cartons of 15 rounds each of 7.62 and continues on his journey. No one notices him except for the occasional hey shrimp, or pipsqueak or other demeaning nickname. He doesn't answer, doesn't speak, keeps his head down. _Fucking, idiotic, selfish, morons. They'll get their due when the time comes. _

Past the vehicle bay. Another pit stop…several minutes in there, mechanics too busy to notice him. Drinking their alchohol, tossing their wrenches in the air. _Clank, clank, clank away stupid bastards. Tweak and turn your precious nuts and bolts. Hahaha nuts!! Shortsighted arrogant pukes. _The fuels drums stand in the corners, he goes unnoticed towards them. Does what he needs to, short some rags now he keeps his head down and leaves the area. It pays to be unnoticed. He smells his fingers as he walks down the hall. He loves that smell. _I miss pumping mom's gas…_

Off to his room or should he say cell. It's a prison to him, it's a prison to both of them. He walks to the corner where his mattress or should he say piles of dirty clothes. He pulls his BOB stuffs 3 cartons of ammo in, squeezes them in with the rest. Gets up crosses to Mag's area does the same. _Brainless bastards can't count, cocky, arrogant, stinky bastards. _He returns to his pile props his Knight SR25 sniper rifle up against the wall. Leans back on the floor and smiling drops off into sleep. He dreams about his father, his mother, his sister. His father's time away in China and how they missed him. He dreamt about his fathers return a different man, an angry, angry man. He worked them every day, drilled and drilled. He said it was coming, they were coming, they had to be prepared…

11:50 PM His eyes pop open. The place is silent except for a few guards perusing the interior of the building. Tomorrow another raid begins more fuel, more food, more survivors, more ammunition, more prisoners like them. The raiders sleep heavily, booze and smoke still fills the halls from their ceremonial night before party. _Scum, filth…_a man walks past his room, shotgun slung on his back. He peeks out after a few minutes, he's down the hall talking quietly to another watchman. He pops the site off any uses the crosshairs alone, lines up the shot and releases the 7.62 mm projectile with the same quiet steady precision. Cough…it enters through the back of one mans head out the other side and slams into the face of the other man, exiting out the back and hitting the wall with thud. Both men collapse into a tangle of blood and bodies on the floor. He sits and listens attentively. No other noises can be heard…_not even a mouse._

He walks to the end of the hall, passes the tangle men and smiles at the piece of skull embedded in one man's face, his eyes open wide, mouth agape. _That look suits you…_He passes the armory, passes the maintenance garage, the smell fills his nostrils again and proceeds to the room at the base of the ladder where the fat people still sleeps. _Fat, fucking, sweaty, stinky…sausage _The female thing is falling over the edge, exposed skin…_Rolls upon roll._ The boy bends and grabs the Phillips screwdriver from his boot raises it up and slams the long pointed shaft deep into the woman's ear, popping the eardrum and piercing the brain before she can even move. He leaves the screwdriver there pinning her head to the pillow. He retreats and walks to the other side of the bed, and waits…moments later the man's watch beeps and he rolls over seeing his fat lover grasps what has happened to her quickly and sits up. The boy is standing there to the side of the bed. He swings the rifle like a bat and smashes the man in the mouth with the butt of the 18lb gun. His face contorts under the weight of the blow and falls back onto the pillow unconscious. _Now your teeth are all evened out you sick, twisted, fat, bastard. _He grabs a few teeth on the bloody shirt and sticks them in his pocket.

He pops the hatch open and hears the sounds of the rifle spitting out it's pain in slow steady repetition. Mags turns to him and explains that there are at least 15 more she can see emerging from the treeline to the east and none from anywhere else through her NVG's. She asks him to help out but, he just shakes his head and grabs her hand, she tries to protest and get him to fire but again he grabs her hand and pulls her to the hatch and points down the ladder. She sees what has happened and quickly descends the ladder before he can even react. She grabs the mans long knife from the table next to the bed and reaches over slicing his neck from ear to ear, blood spewing from the open wound. Air bubbles percolate for a few seconds and then stop. She spits on his face, then grabs his hand gun and puts it in the back of her pants. She turns to him blood streak across the side of her face, now he grabs her hand and leads her back the way he came, stopping at the armory, setting the other side of the trip wire he planted 2 days ago at the doorway so when you entered and hit the wire the pin would pull on the grenade, which also happened to be taped to the back side of a canister of gun powder he had staged. She watched him from the door amazed at what he had been able to do. _Trip…ka-booooom._

The he pulled her down the hall where he had set his other trap. He walks to the corner grabbing a box of oily rags, pulls the pack of matches back out from his left shirt pocket strikes a match while it's still in the pack and drops it into the rags…which now sit in a puddle of gasoline which runs back up to a drum on the other side of the garage, which is next to another box of rags already sitting in a puddle of gas. Then he walks to the door sets the next trip wire which will go through the small pulley system and is attached to a grenade on the under carriage of an old truck that no one uses any more. _Fuck I miss Road Runner….._

Calmly he grabs her hand walks to their room grabs their BOB's and hands the heavy weighted sack to his sister. She peers inside quickly and looks up at him smiling her big goofy, sister grin. She pats him on the shoulder and follows him towards the east exit. An explosion from the garage stirs the sleeping guard but too late as Mags unloads the clip from her handgun into the man's head and chest, she drops the gun to the ground and grabs the shotgun and bandolier from the man's dead body. Hollering from the other end of the shelter ensues as they 2 children walk slowly out the door leaving it open behind them, shadows loom off in the distance to the east. The second explosion rocks the building and flames erupt from the roof over the garage and the door explodes outward. The children slip around the building and walk off to the west where they set up and listen to the screaming, the last explosion rips blows out the whole southern wall near the armory spouting flames high into the sky.

People emerge from inside the building, women and men both. As the boys scope zooms in on them running through the doors and gaping holes in the wall, he lines up two more clips on the ground next to him. A woman exits, clothes in rags, face bloodied, holding the hand of another younger woman. Squeeze, cough, squeeze cough…2 clean shots right through the head. The hoard is pushing through the flames and burning building drawn to the bright light and noise_. _He imagines them being eaten, suffering horrible fates and the hands of the walking dead. _Fat, reeking, slimy, stinky bastards. They all look the same through this scope. Who is who?? _.._Their all dead anyway, they died a long time ago. It doesn't matter…._

Mags sits and watches while he is prone, smiling ear to ear watching through the NVG's as another man emerges from the darkness with 3 zombies right behind him. She hears the quiet cough and watches the man fall to the ground holding his leg as the lunge onto him and feast. The screams of the dead and living dead begin to overwhelm the lapping flames and explosions which still continue to pop occasionally as the procession from the building slows to a trickle, he puts them down one by one some quickly, some slowly. He laughs and Mags turns to him, she puts her hand on his shoulder she kisses him on the head. She pushes the sight away from his eye and pulls the gun slowly from his hand. She helps him up, brushes off the front of his pants and shirt, puts her arm around his shoulder and leads him off away from their refuge, prison, nightmare, into the bright green colored night in front of them. "

"Let's go Timmy"

He looks up at her and for the first time since their parents death, he speaks. "Mags you think we can find some sausage?"

She only replies "You're fucked up, but at least I've got you. We'll see what we can find."


End file.
